


A Grain of Sand

by Ofseaandsky



Series: The Consequences of Chaos [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Roan (The 100), There is plot here if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofseaandsky/pseuds/Ofseaandsky
Summary: Part 1 in a 3 part series.What happened after Clarke injected herself with Nightblood in Becca's Lab? This is my idea. Quite short, pretty fluffy, very smutty and a few feels (hopefully).Can be read as a one-shot, but is the background starting event for the next two parts in the Chaos series. I'm not 100% sure when I'll start posting the next part, but this piece can be a standalone either way.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Roan
Series: The Consequences of Chaos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011201
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	A Grain of Sand

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was done posting stuff. I really did. I've tried to actually finish a story for months and months but I never quite got there. Not until I got a comment on The Ties That Bind asking me if I had more stories and offering help if I needed it. So in large part you're reading this because of my new beta [havealittleFaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/pseuds/havealittleFaith) whom I absolutely adore. I'm so very thankful that she got in touch and for all the help and nitpicking she's offered me. It's been a journey to get here. Part 2 is essentially finished and I've actually been dedicating time to NaNoWriMo so hopefully Part 3 won't be too far from it by the end of the month which is why I'm comfortable posting this. 
> 
> So let me know what you think!

Clarke had disappeared after injecting herself with the nightblood serum. Her healer mother had tried to go after her but the blonde had shaken her head and walked off alone down one of the many hallways in the lab they found themselves in. An unknown forest of hallways and steel that made Roan’s skin itch to be outside in the woods, feeling the breeze on his skin. He didn’t trust this place. 

Roan looked around at the people gathered in the room after helping move the body of the first experiment. His gut twisted at the thought of the same thing happening to Clarke and wondered why no one seemed concerned about her whereabouts. They needed to wait a few more hours until they put her in the glass chamber to ensure her blood had done what it needed to do to assimilate the radiation. Taking one last look around, Roan slipped quietly away in search of the blonde. He just wanted to make sure she was okay. 

The lab was larger than he’d ever imagined but he doubted anyone with the exception of Raven had explored further than the first couple of floors. There were bedrooms and a kitchen on the first level and he started his search there. Roan found her in one of the bedrooms, the door cracked open as she lay facing the other wall. 

“Clarke?” He asked, watching her jump and cursing himself for scaring her. Maybe she’d been sleeping.

“What?” She whispered, her voice wet and heavy. She was crying and it made him uneasy. Even bound and at his mercy she’d fought like a wildcat, never once giving in to fear or self-pity, certainly not tears or grief. He closed the door quietly behind him and approached the bed.

“Are you okay?” He asked, feeling woefully inadequate. They’d already done this once today. He hadn’t helped her much then either. 

“Okay?” She asked with a choked laugh. “No, I’m fucking terrified.”

He hesitated before walking up to the bed where she lay. When he was finally able to see her face he saw the tracks left by her tears, her cheeks flushed pink. She moved her eyes to his, a challenging look in them, daring him to say something. He wouldn’t, not with what she was doing but he couldn’t stand the pain in her eyes. 

“Can I sit?” He asked, unsure of how to offer her comfort. 

She eyed him a little warily before nodding and shifting her legs to make some room for him. He sat heavily, feeling the weight of everything hang off him like chains. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. Risking her life for everyone else. He also couldn’t help the surge of guilt at thinking he had played a role in her decision.

“Here we are again,” she said, not bothering to hide the emotion in her voice. It humbled him that she allowed him to see her like this. 

“Not sure we’ve been here before,” he murmured, leaning his forearms on his knees, clasping his fingers together loosely. 

“You looking for me when I’m alone and scared? Pretty sure that’s a defining feature of our relationship,” she said with a huff of laughter. The grim humour of the statement actually made him smile. When he turned to look at her, smile still soft on his lips, her eyes dipped down for a moment.

“I wasn’t sure you actually  _ could _ smile,” she said, her own lips quirking just a little. “Pretty big compliment, your highness.”

“To see me smile?” He shook his head. “Not a lot of things in my life worth smiling about.”

“But my imminent potential death is?” She asked but he heard the humour in her tone and saw the sparkle in her eye.

“Appreciating your observations, Clarke,” he clarified, though he knew he didn’t need to, before he sat a little straighter. “Suppose there’s truth to it but I hope you see me in a better light than it implies.”

“Does it matter?” She shifted to look at him more directly, narrowing her eyes. 

“What?” He forced himself to turn to face her, close some of the physical distance though he didn’t know how to do this right. Gentleness was not something he was good at. Not something he knew how to do. At least not any longer. His hands were hard from years of battle and he could only imagine the pain they caused so many in the past. There was nothing soft about them and Clarke needed soft.

“Does it matter how I see you?” She asked, putting a hand under her face, making her look even more endearing. 

He thought about her words as she watched him in silence. He wasn’t often bothered by what others thought of him. Not beyond them believing he was an honest man. A fair man. But a small part of him wanted Clarke to see him kindly. Not as the man who kidnapped her and dragged her through the woods, bound and gagged like she meant nothing. Not a banished, desperate man. Not a king. He wanted her to see him as he was. He just didn’t know if he wanted to know what she saw in him.

“Yes,” he answered finally, unable to lie to her. “It matters to me.”

She watched him silently as if formulating what she wanted to say. Or maybe not as the silence stretched on between them. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. One of the few people he felt like he was  _ more _ around. More than a son. More than a warrior. More than a king. But maybe, less too. Clarke had a way of making things in his life very complicated and he still didn’t know what that meant. If he regretted her place in it or celebrated it. 

“You’re the only one who’s bothered to come look for me,” she whispered finally, tears glittering suspiciously again. “I think that should tell you something.”

“About my concern for you,” he reached out and put a hand on her arm as fresh tears spilled. “But it doesn’t tell me much else.”

“I’m very happy it’s you who came looking,” she added, closing her eyes as her tears continued rolling down her cheeks, covering his hand with her own. “Can you- will you hold me? Just- I just- I’m-“

“Yes,” he said immediately, not needing her explanation. 

She shifted back on the bed, still avoiding his eyes and he carefully lowered himself to lay beside her. His heart had started beating faster in his chest. He scolded himself for being nervous, being scared. He had faith in Clarke. If she thought this would work it  _ would _ , and these were not her last hours of life. If they were though, he couldn’t regret not giving her the one thing she asked of him. Not when it was something he so desperately wanted himself. 

“Thank you.” She whispered as she immediately burrowed into his arms, warm and incredibly soft.

He closed his arms around her, holding her against his chest, hoping she couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart. She fit herself against him, face wet against his throat but he didn’t mind as he clung to her just as desperately as she clung to him. He ran one hand down her spine, hoping to soothe her but her hand fisted in his shirt making him wonder. 

He let his mind drift over the possible scenarios that would play out over the next few hours. What he would do if the nightblood worked. What he would do if it didn’t. What that would mean to not only himself, but to the world. He still struggled to truly understand what was about to happen. What strange fate had been decided for them by someone that no longer existed. It was beyond what he had thought  _ could _ happen. 

Would he return to Azgeda for the last glimpse of a home he’d only just returned to? Would he stay and stand straight to face a wave of destruction he couldn’t imagine? Would he do anything but find a place to await what was coming? Could he give up hope? Would they try another formulation of nightblood?

“Why?” He whispered, hands tight around Clarke as his thoughts stuck on one particular snag. “Why didn’t you choose Emori?”

“I couldn’t,” her voice was soft, the words simple but firm. “It had to be me.”

“You could have asked me,” he said, knowing it was still up to himself to sacrifice his life for his people.

“No, Roan,” she said, shifting to look up at him, “I really couldn’t.”

“Why?” He asked again. “You’re not expendable.”

“And you are?” She challenged, rather than answering the question herself. “You’re responsible for the entire Coalition. If it doesn’t work and we kill you, what do you think happens to us?”

“If it doesn’t work we all die,” he said plainly, holding her eyes as she shifted to hold herself above him. “It wouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” she whispered. “But I wasn’t going to kill anyone else.”

“Do you not think this will work?” He asked, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek subconsciously. He was fascinated to see her lean into his touch, eyelids fluttering for a moment, lips pressing together.

“I know it will,” she said certainly.

“Then why not choose Emori?” He asked again, his own fears making the words harsher than he intended. “Or anyone else?”

“Worried about me?” A small smile curled her lips upward, but it didn’t reach her eyes, the sadness in them heavy and dull.

“Yes,” he said, eyes dipping to that smile for a moment. “I care about what happens to you Clarke.”

“Which is why I couldn’t ask anyone to do this for me,” she whispered, her own eyes dipping to his lips. “I care about what happens to everyone else. I care about what happens to you. It’s why I know I had to do this.”

“And if it doesn’t?” he had to ask. Clarke’s eyes dipped to his throat, her lashes dark against her pale skin. She licked her lips before they stretched wider and she looked back up at him.

“Then I die knowing I did everything I could,” she said, repeating his own words of assurance back to him. His fingers tightened around her jaw and he felt a pinch in his heart at having her take his words too much to heart. To put herself at too much risk.

“I didn’t intend for you to take me literally,” he said, voice low and heavy with his own worry.

His thumb moved restlessly against her cheek, the skin softer than he’d imagined it could be. It was something unique to Skaikru. How soft they were, but in Clarke’s case at least, it didn’t translate to her character. She was stronger than almost anyone else he’d met before. Clarke’s eyes dipped to his lips and he felt the surge in his blood at the action. It was primitive the urge to connect at times like these. Times where death was almost inevitable. He pressed his own lips together only just stopping himself from pulling her down so he could lose himself in her until the time came. But this was about Clarke.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked to his surprise. He nodded, unable to find his own voice to give permission and she didn’t hesitate to press her lips against his own.

Once Clarke’s lips were on his own he moved his hand to hold her in place, eyes falling shut so he could enjoy the sensation unhindered. She moved her lips against his without hesitation and his fingers fisted and tightened in her hair to hold her close. He couldn’t stop himself from sweeping his tongue against her lips, desperate to taste her completely. She opened to him immediately and he found himself utterly lost in the taste and warmth of her. Kissing Clarke was a gift he hadn’t seen as a possibility and he revelled in the opportunity. It made his bones tingle and his free hand seek out the warmth of the skin of her back.

“Shit,” she swore when she pulled away to catch her breath and he opened his eyes to find her cheeks flushed bright pink, lips red and swollen.

He let her have a moment but then surged into her again, fingers tugging a little harder on her hair to open her up more as the hand on her waist swept higher up her spine. She moaned into his mouth, her own hands becoming restless against his chest. Roan felt an urgent need take hold, something he hadn’t felt since he was much younger; to touch, to feel, to be touched in return. He wanted to show her what her sacrifice was for, how in awe of her he was and his words would never do it justice.

“Fuck,” she swore as he moved his lips over her jaw and down her throat, wanting to taste and explore all of her.

He shifted her to lay below him on the too soft bed, kissing her deeply once more before returning his attention to her throat. Her hands left his chest to hold his head in place as he sucked at the juncture of her throat, one hand sliding slowly up her belly, giving her plenty of opportunity to object.

“Can we do more than this?” She asked a little breathlessly as she wrapped her legs around his hips. “A lot more than this?”

“Yes,” he whispered against her skin, wondering if they would be left in peace but not entirely sure he cared either way. “What do you want, Clarke?”

“You,” she answered. He raised his head to look at her, the softness in her eyes making him weak in the knees. “Just you.”

“You have me,” he confirmed before he kissed her again.

Clarke returned his passion with her own. Her hands were quick to reach for his shirt, tugging it up his torso until he sat back on his knees to pull it up and over his head. He tossed it off to one side and smiled at her as she did the same with her own shirt and the bra underneath, revealing her own torso in all it’s glory.

“Jok,” he swore as he lowered himself back down on her, her skin soft and warm against his own. “Yu ste meizen.”

He didn’t wait for her to acknowledge his words, they were only for her. He wasn’t about to defend them or have her say anything in return. He preferred to keep showing her what he thought. How he saw her. His hands came up to cup her breasts and it made her arch up into him. He was already painfully hard and thrust forward into her for a bit of friction, making her moan into his kiss. She was amazing.

“Take these off too,” her hands at the waistband of his pants and he knew it would require a bit more maneuvering to kick off his boots too.

“You sure no one else is gonna come looking for you?” He asked as he sat back to tug off his boots and watched Clarke do the same.

She glanced at the door and shrugged before crawling over the bed and walking up to it. She pushed what he assumed was a lock into place before she turned back to face him, giving him a good view of her as she stripped out of her own pants.

“Even if they do,” she said as she crawled over the bed and back towards him. “They can’t come in.”

Clarke stayed on her knees as she kissed him again, running her hands over his shoulders as she straddled his lap. He hadn’t gotten to his own pants yet but he switched his attention to kissing her, hands sweeping over all that glorious skin. She pressed herself against him as she dug her hands into his hair. He felt surrounded by her and wanted more. 

He settled his hands on her hips, rocking her forward and into his body, groaning when she repeated the motion. One of her hands stayed in his hair while the other ran over his shoulders. It was an interesting sensation for him, the scar tissue on his back had little sensitivity to touch but the skin between was more so as a result. He shivered when she ran the tips of her fingers along his spine.

“Good shiver?” She asked and he hummed as he leaned down to suck her nipple into his mouth. She really had amazing tits. 

“Lay back,” he said, already helping her comply. 

When her back hit the mattress she wrapped her legs around him again, tugging on his hair to encourage him down for another kiss. She’d managed to dislodge the tie he’d fastened in it, releasing it to fall around his face. Her hands slid along his skin as he kissed his way down her torso, pausing to pay some attention to those incredible tits before settling between her thighs. He knew that no matter how badly he wanted to drag this out for hours, to lose himself in her, their time together was short and probably doomed to being interrupted. 

“Oh, that’s not fair,” she sighed when he quickly learned just what made her inhale sharply, before he sucked hard on her clit. He savoured each sigh and soft moan that escaped her lips, letting them guide his movements until she trembled beneath him. Her hands were back in his hair again, one foot pressed against his back as she moved with the fingers he’d slid into her pussy. She was incredible, open and abundant in her pleasure, moaning softly as she tightened around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” she swore, an arm thrown over her face as he crawled up her body. 

“That a good fuck?” He teased, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

“There better be one very soon,” she said, turning her face to kiss him, hands going down to push at his pants. He helped her push them down his legs and before he had time to think it through she helped position his cock at her entrance and urged him to push inside. 

“Jok,” he swore as he sank fully into her wet heat, almost overwhelmed by the feel of all her surrounding him. It felt incredible, the nails digging into his shoulders making it even more so. “Clarke-“ 

“Yeah, I know,” she said against his lips before she kissed him. 

Roan wasn’t entirely sure what he’d wanted to say but it didn’t matter once he started moving inside of her. All he could do then was focus on the way her hands held him close, her breath against his cheek and the warmth of her body around him. He was certain Praimfaya could come rage at their door and still all he’d be able to see and feel and taste was Clarke. It had been too long since he’d allowed himself this pleasure, since he’d trusted himself to let himself get lost, even for only a moment. 

“Roan,” Clarke sighed, arching into him as he thrust harder, changing the angle enough to make her shudder. “I- fuck!”

“What do you need?” He asked as he gripped her hip hard. “Tell me.”

“I- shit,” she tried making him raise his head from her throat. “My clit. Please. I’m so-“

“I’ve got you,” he said, slipping a hand between them to rub in gentle contrast to his hard thrusts. 

He watched her face as she shut her eyes tight, cheeks and chest flushing in anticipation as her lips parted. She let out a soft whine as she tightened around him, the tension in his own body nearly impossible to deny. He slowed his movements as she crested through her orgasm, waiting until she’d relaxed the nails that dug into the scars on his shoulders.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispered making him frown again as he buried his face in her throat. “Please.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice as he increased his pace again, the tingle deep in his balls betraying his body’s own eagerness at her demand. He tried to hold back but between the years of deprivation and the way she clutched him tight he was lost before he realised it was too late to pull out. He came with a low grunt, burying his cock deep as he emptied himself inside of her. 

Clarke didn’t seem bothered as she pressed kisses against the side of his face, hands gentle as they traced the scars on his back and raked soothing circles on his scalp. He had gotten the gentle touch he’d been craving for so long and was loathe to leave the warmth of her arms. But there was looming destruction and the end of days and all their hopes lay in the veins of the woman below him now. The woman he wouldn’t be able to bear to suffer like the man before her. 

“We should-“ she whispered even as her hands held him closer. “Eventually Abby will come looking for me.”

He hummed against her throat, his body languid and sated. Her fingers dug deeper into his hair, nails scratching softly against his scalp. He knew she didn’t want the moment to end any more than he did. This was their last moment of peace before the storm. After indulging her touch a moment more he raised himself up, capturing her lips in one more slow, deep kiss. 

“Thank you,” she said, cupping his cheek when he pulled away. 

“Should be me thanking you,” he said, allowing one more smile to slip past his defences and enjoying the one he got in return.

“For finding me when I was alone and scared,” she added, tracing the line of his lips. Roan leaned down and kissed her again, pouring all he couldn’t say into the action.

Thank you for risking your life. Thank you for this moment of peace. Thank you for making me feel like just a man, not a king. Thank you thank you thank you.

When they had dressed again, Roan sitting at the edge of the bed, tying his boot, she pulled something out of her jacket pocket. She held it out to him and he frowned recognising it immediately.

“I’m sure it’s going to work,” she said, holding his eyes firmly. “You should be the first to have it.”

He’d watched her sink the needle into her own arm without hesitation. Without a second thought as to what it may do to her. Clarke was obviously confident enough to steal enough to have a spare dose and he didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d intended it for him all along. It was up to him to show the same courage that she had so recently. He rolled up his sleeve and held out the syringe to her, presenting his arm.

“You sure?” She asked and he nodded.

“I trust you, Clarke,” he said, watching her face as she injected the nightblood serum into his veins. “Yu jus ste ai jus.”


End file.
